Sigrid looks to the future with There's Always More That I Could Say

The record kicks off with a triumphant “I’ll Always Be Your Girl”, forming a picture-perfect introduction to the new Sigrid – soaring vocals alongside 80s guitar and synths fit for a film opening. There's Always More That I Could Say is a look to the future, and after 2019’s pop-perfection Sucker Punch that let her personality shine as a newbie on the block, and 2022’s follow-up How To Let Go that dealt with growth and adulthood, it’s a welcome new perspective that Raabe has put her lens through.

It's just 30 minutes long and while short and sweet, the album still packs a solid punch. No moment boring, every lyric well considered, but what’s missing this time compared to previous efforts is a sense of magic, mystery and urgency that she delivered in the past. There's Always More That I Could Say feels a little copy and paste when it comes to the musicality of it all, what with the token piano title track “There's Always More That I Could Say” that calls back to “Dynamite” oh so well, but doesn’t take it any further.

Flowers need to be given to “Hush Baby, Hurry Slowly” that taps into that urgency of her previous works through lyrical anticipation of a new relationship. Its driving beat of an intro just gets it right – and Raabe keeps her melodies small and simple along the track, teasing the listener with what could be. This contrasts immediately with the raucous “Fort Knox” that has Raabe singing, shouting, and belting from the top of her lungs. It’s these moments that Sigrid we remember shines through, but when songs like “Have You Heard This Song Before” and “Kiss The Sky” fall into the fun-but-forgettable category, it dampens the sparkle.

It's good to see lyrical experimentation on the record, especially on “Two Years” that could easily be misconstrued as a sapphic bop, but is instead sung from the shifted perspective of someone chasing her for all this time. It’s a gorgeous touch too, when musical arrangement reflects against wording without becoming cliché – like the sense of floating through water each time the chorus hits on “Jellyfish,” or the sunshine-in-a-bottle track “Eternal Sunshine.” The latter is a Fleetwood Mac-esque closer to the record that calls back to the opening through its similar anthemic hook, but instead of eager anticipation this time we feel hopeful optimism.

There's Always More That I Could Say leaves you wishing that Sigrid did, in fact, say some more. But that doesn’t make the listen not worth it, as this third outing, if anything, shows Raabe’s consistency across all the years and the growth of her emotional maturity as she heads into her thirties. It may not reach the highs of her earlier work, but it shows an artist more self-assured than ever, steady in her evolution rather than chasing the next big moment.